"Above, you'll find the first chapter of Russell Hoban's novel Turtle Diary, rendered in illuminated audio. I finished the book last month, and it quickly became one of my favorites. Hoban might be my favorite author. I found him at the bookstore with Soonchild, which to me is the epitome of high children's literature. Then I played around with Riddley Walker, and quickly realized Russell's breadth. The Mouse and His Child is probably his most famous work, made into an animated movie that was fairly popular in its day. More than one of his books have been made into movies, though. One even had Andy Warhol design the movie poster. But in all likelihood, you've never heard of him.
I know how hard it is to be convinced by someone to read a certain book. Authors are like shirts—there's usually only one or two in the whole store you'd even consider wearing. And so in lieu of a review, I've decided instead to write my own synopsis of the book, in the voice of the main character. He can tell you better than anyone what it's about. A strange idea, I concede, but ultimately I came to feel that it just might be able to do what I as a reviewer could not: actually succeed in getting you to read it.
TURTLE DIARY: A New Synopsis Hello, my name is William. I don't know what else to tell you about myself. I live alone in a little apartment above the stairs, with a bunch of neighbors that I don't really know. Some of whom I'm sure I hate. That's how it is now, but it hasn't always been this way. At one time I had a wife and a daughter, a past life that somehow seems more real to me than the one I'm dragging along now. Now I just work at the bookshop. I'm not really sure where I'm going, or if I am even going anywhere at all. I haven't seen my daughter in years. But lately I've been getting restless, you see. Bad dreams, things in the dark coming after me. Sometimes it seems like they even wake up with me: during the day I'll catch myself peeking over my shoulder for no reason at all. The other night I dreamt I was going up in flames. There was a crowd, a bunch of people watching me, and I felt that I could probably put this fire out if I dove like an idiot onto the floor and rolled around wildly. But I didn't, because I was afraid to look like an idiot. When I woke up, still half-dreaming, I heard myself say, "Afraid to look like an idiot, and so you will die like an idiot." I was still a little groggy, but I laughed so hard I cried. A few days ago I went to the zoo and found myself in front of the sea-turtles. There was nothing particularly interesting about them, their eyes were black, their faces were blank. They swam in circles around the tank, but for some reason I watched them awhile. I can't remember what was going through my mind, but at some point it really dawned on me how fucked these sea-turtles were. I remembered reading somewhere that sea-turtles will swim across entire oceans. I watched one pass, and I remember wondering if it could feel that something was wrong. Did it understand? Maybe. Or maybe it just accepts its situation, understands that this is just how it is. But something about that—something about that thought infuriated me. I physically shook my head, as if someone present had actually said it out loud: Maybe this is just how it is. Ridiculous, I thought. How dare you? Never. My head got hot, my thoughts were inflamed. It was like some little dwarf had locked me up, and through the little window he laughed at me, and touched my wife. I watched myself stare at the turtle as he passed again. "I have shown you my rage," he seemed to say, "Now you can understand. Now you can decide." Yes, I can decide. And I have made a decision. I'm going to steal those fucking turtles, and I'm going to take them back to the sea. And that woman I met—that weird woman? She made it seem as if the whole thing was her idea. Hell, maybe it was. Who the hell knows how any damn thing happens at all?
